


Whatever You Want

by deadlydecember1214



Series: The Losers Of ‘89 Were Here [13]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, KING Stephen - Works
Genre: Boys In Love, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: Eddie is sick with the flu but there is no way he is going to compromise getting Richie sick or worrying him… Not when Richie has about a million other things going on outside of Eddie and Eddie knows it. (College Aged Fic)





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an idea of foulwitchqueen on Tumblr for Eddie being sick and not wanting to bug Richie when he’s super busy.

Richie Tozier was fucking exhausted.

He was pretty sure he’d never been as busy in his fucking life as he was now. To be fair, he’d done it to himself. He didn’t let himself want too many things as a general rule. He’d been conditioned by a childhood of disappointment to not try too hard at anything; it was how he’d barely skated through high school and how he managed to get into college.

The only thing he could remember ever really wanting and trying for was Eddie but that was something completely different.

The point was in his sophomore year of college he found himself... wanting again.

He could blame his GE requirements or he could blame the fliers up in the quad or a million other things but really, he’d done it to himself. One communications class as an undecided freshman and he’d been hooked. It had been the first class he could ever remember actually buckling down in and he’d done well, really well actually. So he’d taken a few more classes second semester and declared a communication major at the start of sophomore year. And when he’s seen the audition flyers in the quad for a campus radio personality, simple disc jockeying... he’d gone for it and he’d gotten it.

The problem was now he was nearly three fourths through the year, taking and maintaining 18 credit hours and running the 4pm to 9pm slot of the campus radio, queuing music and doing some of his impressions between cramming for his midterms next week. Not to mention actively dating and living with his boyfriend and regularly meeting up with and seeing his friends... he was just so fucking exhausted.

Getting home, Richie tossed his keys on the little table next to the door Eddie had gotten for them to put their shoes under and rubbed the back of his neck. Dropping his backpack down beside the same table, he made his way to the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the stove. 9:47. Fucking typical.

Digging around, he found everything he needed for a sandwich and quickly threw one together, staving because he hadn’t eaten since noon. Taking his first bite, a thought occurred to him and he was actually surprised he was only now thinking it.

Where’s Eddie?

Usually, he’d stumble in close to 10 and he’d start making himself something to eat and before he could finish, Eddie would be padding out from the living room to scold him about eating a vegetable or some shit. But his favorite adorable little nuisance was nowhere to be found. Downing his sandwich in a few bites, Richie went off in search of his boyfriend.

He found him almost immediately.

Eddie was sprawled across the couch, the textbook for his Basic Nursing course open on the ground beneath him liked he’d been attempting to read it and couldn’t keep his eyes open. Richie smiled involuntarily at the pure cuteness of his boyfriend before he went to crouch down beside the couch, picking up the textbook and gently setting it on the coffee table before reaching over to run his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

Richie waited, expecting Eddie to groan and smack his hand away like he normally did but the boy only half mumbled something Richie couldn’t make out before snuggling himself up closer, leaning into Richie’s light touch as his breathing slowed again.

Confused, Richie glanced at the clock again, double checking it wasn’t later than he thought... Eddie never fell asleep this early. In fact, Eddie pretty much never fell asleep before Richie. He was always the last of the two of them to drift off and the first one to slip out of bed in the morning. He was a light sleeper, waking up every time Richie used the bathroom or a car alarm outside went off.

He was never this fucking out of it.

“Eddie,” Richie sighed, reaching out to wiggle the other’s ear, “Eds, baby, come on. You can’t sleep on this couch, it’s shit.”

Slowly, groggily, Eddie’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at his boyfriend, who was still lightly tugging on his ear. Reaching up, he shoved Richie’s hand away, “G’the fuckoff.”

“Come on, get your cute ass up so we can get you to bed. I don’t feel like carrying you bridal style tonight.” Richie smirked as Eddie groaned and ran a hand down his face, sitting up. “Textbook that boring, huh?”

Eddie looked up at him confused, “What?”

“It’s barely ten and you’re passed out and you usually find boring bullshit like this,” He lifted the nursing textbook from the coffee table, “Interesting,” He smirked at Eddie’s unamused glare, setting the book back down to stand and take his boyfriend’s hands, pulling him up beside him.

Eddie rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth curling upward as he shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe I just didn’t sleep well last night. You sure as hell wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

“You’re the one who forgot to get me more snoring strips,” Richie replied defensively.

Eddie shot him a look over his shoulder as he lead the way to their bedroom, “Nasal strips, dumbass. And you didn’t put them on the grocery list so no I didn’t forget them, I just didn’t fucking get them.”

Reaching the bedroom doorway, Richie reached out and carefully grasped Eddie’s wrist, tugging him back into his arms. Eddie easily fell into place there, putting up no fight. Softly, Richie asked, “How was your day?”

Eddie shrugged, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, “Not my best but I’ll be fine. Yours?”

“Fucking exhausting and I missed you the whole damn time,” Richie whined into the hair on top of Eddie’s head.

Eddie sighed, sweeping his hands over Richie’s chest, “I missed you too,” He pulled back to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, “I’m just really ready go to bed.”

“What so we can get up and do the whole fucking thing again?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, slipping from Richie’s arms to do to his dresser and change into pajamas, “That’s life, babe.”

“Our life,” Richie managed an exhausted smile as he watched Eddie from the doorway. It’d been years now since Eddie had worried about being naked in front of him.

Throwing on a long AC/DC t-shirt and boxers, Eddie turned to his boyfriend and gave him an exaggerated look, “Our life, yes.”

“Together,”

“Together, now shut the fuck up and come to bed, you sappy dipshit.”

* * *

Eddie woke up, his head pounding, body aching and the bed empty beside him. Groaning, he covered his eyes and rolled over, gripping the comforter closer as a chill ran through his body. Taking a deep breath in, he swallowed and his heart sank.

It hurt to swallow.

Bolting up in bed, Eddie swung his feet over the side of the bed and immediately regretted it, spots appearing in his vision as his head throbbed. Hissing, he clutched his forehead and used his other hand to steady himself, “Fuck!”

After a moment of adjustment, he attempted to get up again while breathing in and out slowly and purposely. As he tried, he found himself forced to cough and pause to make sure he didn’t make himself sick. Shaking his head, he grimaced the whole way to the bathroom down the hall, muttering, “Shit, shit, shit!”

Pulling open the mirror medicine cabinet, he grabbed their thermometer and carefully put on one of the protective plastic sleeves before sticking it under his tongue. He knew for a fact Richie didn’t used the fucking covers and if he by some miracle didn’t have a fever, he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask for one…

He recognized the irony of being more than willing to stick his actual tongue in Richie’s mouth a beat later.

Once the thermometer beeped, he checked the results and groaned.

One—oh—fucking—two point nine.

“Shit,” He moaned miserably as his throat burned and head throbbed. Padding begrudgingly out of the bathroom, he went back to the bedroom and glanced at the clock next to Richie’s side. It was Friday, he didn’t have any classes on Fridays and he didn’t have to get to work at the Village Grocery for another two hours.

I just need a little more sleep, he thought already feeling drowsy again. His head hurt so much less when his eyes were closed. Just a little more sleep and then he’d be fine…

But an hour later when Eddie startled awake again, his—well, Richie’s—AC/DC shirt sticking to his back, he had to admit he might need more than just a little sleep. Bring a hand up to his cheek, he found it worryingly warm.

Yup, he was sick.

“Fuuuuck,” He groaned again, throwing his hand down on the mattress.

Coughing, he crawled across the bed and picked up the phone, quickly dialed his manager at The Village Grocery. Apologizing profusely, he called off work and started to lay back down before a thought struck him.

Fuck, what about Richie?  
Sure, Eddie hated calling off work but one shift was manageable without getting fired. That wasn’t exactly true for Richie. The campus was filled with wannabe disc jockeys and Richie had been giving a three strike policy on his first day, three days off for any reason and he was fired. Not to mention if Richie got sick, he could possibly miss classes during fucking midterm week.

No way could any of that happen. First of all, they were barely making rent as was with his thirty-six hours and Richie’s twenty-five hours a week. It wasn’t like grocery stores and internships paid well. Second, if Richie got fired, they’d be basically forced to move in to some cheaper, even shittier place further away from campus, thus throughly screwing them even more. And third, Richie could possibly fail a whole course if he missed a midterm or a due date.

So, no way that could fucking happen.

Picking up the phone again, Eddie called the only person he could think of at that moment to help.

* * *

Richie came home late again on Friday night, rolling his shoulders as he schlepped off his backpack and called out, “Spaghetti Man! Bev wants us all to go see this band she found. It’s gonna be fucking lame but I said we were—“

He paused, noticing a note left on the counter next to the fridge. Looking around, he went over and picked it up, eyebrows drawing together.

Richie—

Went to stay at Stan and Bill’s. Studying for midterms so no interruptions, okay, asshole?

Stay home and feed yourself, I’ll be back.

Eddie

P.S. By feed I mean BALANCED MEALS!

A small heart had been drawn beside Eddie’s name. I love you in his boyfriend’s written language.

The whole thing didn’t sit quite right with him. Eddie didn’t usually leave the apartment to study… actually his go to move for avoiding distractions at home was to lock himself in the bathroom and sit with his textbooks and notes in the empty tub. They’d argued about it a few times in the past.

Still, why would Eddie lie about studying? And why lie if he could easily be caught? All Richie would have to do was call the nausea-inducing Stenbrough train and ask if his precious little Eddie Spaghetti was there. Which, he told himself rather firmly, he wasn’t going to do.

He trusted Eddie. If Eddie said he was subjecting himself to Bill and Stan’s PDA so he could study then that was probably the truth.

Rolling his eyes, Richie set the note down and muttered, “Fucking dumb ass balanced meals bullshit…” He left the kitchen and went to change into something he cared about less to go and meet the others.

* * *

“Drink,” Stan held out a glass of water to Eddie as the boy exited the bathroom, having just been sick for a fourth time since his arrival.

Eddie gave the glass a look of intimidation before shaking his head, “Give me another ten minutes.”  
Stanley sighed, “If you get dehydrated, we’ll end up having to take you to the fucking hospital so which would you prefer, drinking this now or hydrating through an IV in a few hours?”

Glaring, Eddie took the glass and gingerly sipped its contents as Stan lead him back to the couch. He laid down and Stanley helped cover him in two layers of blankets, reaching out to feel his forehead, “Eddie, drinking or not, if your fever doesn’t break soon—“  
“Shut up, Stanley!” Eddie groaned, “I just want to go back to sleep.”  
“How you two doing?”

Stan looked over the back of the couch to see his live-in boyfriend had returned from his single Friday afternoon class. Meeting Bill’s eye, he made a face that meant nothing to Eddie, watching them from his spot on the cushions but obviously made sense to Bill because a second later the other boy said, “Eddie, have you taken your tuh—temperature in a while?”  
“An hour ago, it'd gone up to 104.3,” Stan answered for Eddie, “He hasn’t let me take it since but I think he’s warmer.”

“Fucking snitch,” Eddie whined, burying his head down away from the light of the living room.

Bill shook his head, “Ignorance is not bliss, Eddie. Y—you more than anybody should want to know how sick you are.”

Eddie glared into the darkness beneath the covers, “It’s the fucking flu. It’s what everyone goddamn has right now. And I am training to be a registered nurse, you know. Being sick doesn’t scare me anymore!”

“But hospitals do,” Stan quipped, glancing between Bill and Eddie with his arms crossed over his chest, “Threaten to take him to a hospital and he’ll basically do whatever.”

“It is not the hospital!” Eddie shot back, tugging off the covers just to glare at Stan, “It’s…being an actual patient.”

“What does that even mean?” Stan asked, looking up at his boyfriend, silently asking if he knew.

Bill did know.

Bill and Eddie had been closer when they were younger, a lot closer. In fact, they’d been friends with each other before even becoming friends with Richie and Stan, even though only by a year. There were things about that that made their dynamic just different from the others. Richie and Stanley had a similar connection to each other; they just knew things that the others didn’t or got things before the others did.

Things like this.

Shifting on his feet, Bill sighed, “His muh—mom. Being a patient reminds him of his mom.”

After a moment, the explanation clicked for Stan and he suddenly couldn’t believe he hadn’t put two and two together before. Of course being locked up and plied with different prescription drugs would remind Eddie of his mother. She’d spent nearly thirteen years of his life doing exactly that to him before he’d figured out it was all bullshit.

Stan cringed and leaned over Eddie, “Hey, okay, no hospital but you have to let me take your temperature, deal? You can sleep a bit but when I ask, you have to do it.”

Eddie nodded mutely, eyes closed as he was already drifting back off.

Bill went over to his boyfriend, looking down at their sickly friend with his brow set in concern. Softly, he reached out and ran his fingertips along Stan’s arm, “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much.”  
Stanley sighed and leaned into Bill’s touch, weaving their fingers together, “I know… he just worries so much about everyone and everything else. He needs someone to worry about him, at least a little.”

Bill laughed, tugging Stanley from the living room, “Usually Ri—Richie’s all over that. Where is he? You only said on the phone that Eddie was s—sick.”

“Yeah, well,” Stan sighed in minor annoyance, “He doesn’t want Richie to know he’s sick. Pretty stupid plan in my opinion, like those two don’t have some weird psychic connection between them, but whatever. I told him I wouldn’t say anything.”

Bill shrugged, “Well, it might be pointless anyway. Bev invited everyone out tonight; suh-someone’ll notice the three of us aren’t there.”

“He told Richie he was coming over here to cram for midterms next week,” Stan said, shaking his head. He leaned forward quickly to peck Bill’s lips before starting on dinner, “I feel like we’ll be seeing Richie sometime tomorrow with the whole thing figured out. As much as he acts like one, he’s not an idiot.”

* * *

Richie woke up the next morning feeling about as exhausted as he had felt going to sleep, if not more. His whole fucking night had been nothing but tossing and turning. He wasn’t used to sleeping alone and when he did have to, it never went well. He couldn’t get comfortable without Eddie to snuggle or spoon and if he managed to fall asleep, he was more prone to nightmares when his better half was gone too.

Sitting up, he looked at the clock and smirked. It was getting close to noon and if Eddie were home, he’d have been telling Richie off right about then for potentially fucking up his sleep schedule.

Your day and night cycle are a delicate balance, genius. You screw with it and I promise you’ll fucking regret it, He could almost hear his boyfriend in his ear.

Speaking of his boyfriend… Noon, huh?

Eddie would be at work right then, would have started his shift at nine and only be about halfway through. Smirk widening, Richie got up and quickly got dressed, planning on paying his Eddie Spaghetti a little surprise visit.

The Village Grocery wasn’t far from the apartment, a stroke of pure luck honestly since Eddie’d had the job since before they’d moved in together. Richie could walk it relatively easily if New York traffic was agreeable. Slipping on his Chucks, he hopped out of the door, locking the place up behind him.

The walk only took fifteen to twenty minutes, Richie guessed. He didn’t wear a watch, usually just grabbing Eddie’s arm and using his when he needed one. When he made it to the front of the store, he paused looking through the glass sliding door. Eddie wasn’t at any of the registers. Generally, he usually just rung people up; only stocking or anything else if he was picking up someone else’s slack.

It was a small store, during the later hours only one or two employees would be present at a time and even at 12:30 Richie only saw three people in uniform when he went inside. Being blasted by a cold jet of air from the AC, he went over to the only vaguely familiar face he could find.

“How’s it hanging, Mary?” Richie asked, going to lean up against one of the empty check-out stations where a curvy, olive skinned girl stood.

Marisol turned to him, eyebrows coming together, “Better if it weren’t for your boyfriend.”

Marisol was the only employee remaining who’d been working at the store since Eddie started. They were casual work friends and she’d joined the Losers once or twice to hang out. She was nice enough and according to Eddie, was easy to kill time with.

Richie quirked an eyebrow, “Just the person I wanted to hear about! And where is he around here anyway?”

Mary stared at him for a moment, startled, “What do you mean ‘where is he’? I assumed home with you.”

“It’s Saturday,” Richie shrugged, tapping mindlessly on the divider between them, “He always works on Saturdays.”

“Except that he called in sick this Saturday,” Marisol said slowly, shaking her head, “Which is why you can tell him that he owes me big time for covering for him on a weekend shift.”

Richie stood for a moment, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on before starting to back away, “Right, sick… Cool, Mary, I’ll tell him, check you later!”

Leaving the store, Richie quickly haled a cab and headed toward Bill and Stan’s.

* * *

Eddie awoke to a cool washcloth being placed carefully on his forehead. He hummed in relief, slowly pulling the stands of sleep away from his brain before slipping his eyes open. Richie’s hand slipped down from his forehead to his cheek, lightly pinching it as he smiled lightly, “Even flushed and feverish, you’re fucking adorable, Eds.”

“Whaddya doin’ here?” Eddie whined, “You’re suppose to stay away!”

Richie rolled his eyes, brushing Eddie’s sweaty hair back out of the way of the washcloth, “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you’re suppose to tell me shit like when you’re sick. Let’s call it even, huh?”

“I didn’t wanna get you sick…” Eddie mumbled, reaching up to put a hand over his eyes to block out the light of the room, “You’ll get fired and flunk outta school…”

Cocking his head, Richie let out a single laugh, “I think you’re blowing this a bit out of proportion, honey bunny. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to take care of you, sickness and in health and all that,” He shrugged, continuing to play with Eddie’s hair, “And if you’re gonna fucking bite it from the Black Plague, I wanna go out with you anyway.”

“It’s not the fucking Black Plague, dickwad,” Eddie pinched his nose, “It’s just the flu.”

Eddie heard only silence for a long moment.

“Eddie,” Richie said, his tone taking on a sincerity that Eddie knew he, and he alone, got to hear. Peaking out from under his eyelids, he hummed in acknowledgement. Richie continued, “Please don’t pull something like this again. Please just… talk to me next time?”

Eddie sighed, looking up at the ceiling as guilt filled his chest. Richie wasn’t exactly a please machine. He used the word about a sparingly as Eddie tended to used the L-O-V-E word. At least, in a non-joking manner. It was actually pretty fucking unfair because it meant that when he did drop it, it was fucking impossible to deny him whatever he was asking for.

Swallowing and cringing at the searing in his throat, Eddie nodded, “Okay.”

Richie let out a long breath and nodded, reaching out for Eddie’s hand to lace their fingers together.

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, all the air in his lungs seeming to evaporate as he took in the sight of his boyfriend lightly playing with his fingers and the way he was mindfully tracing patterns on the back of his hand. He realized suddenly Richie had been worried; that he was still worried.

He didn’t have to say so… with Richie silences tended to mean more than the words that the boy so often wasted on meaningless things and sometimes the only way to get an honest answer out of him was to watch his body language. Eddie read Richie better than anyone else, even when he was running a fever.

“Stan said my fever broke a couple hours ago,” He supplied, wanting nothing more in that moment than to stop Richie’s worrying. “It’s been going down… just takes time for the body to bounce back from high fevers. But I—I’m fine, Rich. Really.”

Richie glanced at their intertwined hands for a long moment before looking up and cracking his usually smirk, “Well, thank fuck for that because I can not afford rent with my broke ass alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it when his head throbbed in protest and his stomach churned. He groaned, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand, “Richie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

  
“Take me home,” He whined, looking over at his boyfriend, “Stan and Bill’s couch is somehow fucking worse than ours.”

  
Richie laughed and nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand back, “Whatever you want, Eddie, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I randomly decided Eddie is like 100x sassier and bitchy-er when he's sick but here we are.


End file.
